


check my arm

by PlayerTwoHeere



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Aftereffects, Aftershocks, Angst, One-Shot, Self Harm, Short, Sorry guys, there’s no fluff to be seen, trigger warning, wow i need to stop taking my issues out on jer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:17:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayerTwoHeere/pseuds/PlayerTwoHeere
Summary: He made mistakes. Too many of them. Stuttering? A zap of electricity to his back stopped that. Slouching? A bit of spinal stimulation fixed it. Sexual thoughts? A reprimand, another spark, and another tally on the list of push-ups.He got used to the pain. It was like he was a dog, trained to associate the bad behaviour with the beatings. He misbehaved, he got punished. Simple as that.





	check my arm

The phantom pains still course down Jeremy’s spine. He shuts his eyes, trying to block out the voice of the SQUIP, the one that still echoes in his brain, the one he keeps under wraps so he doesn’t worry anyone.

 

Everything in his life turned topsy-turvy, flipping upside down and inside out and different- a good different, he thought. He was getting better, cooler, popular, more… chill. He was going to get the girl and the friends and the clothing and the confidence. But just Jeremy’s luck that that wasn’t to be.

 

He made mistakes. Too many of them. Stuttering? A zap of electricity to his back stopped that. Slouching? A bit of spinal stimulation fixed it. Sexual thoughts? A reprimand, another spark, and another tally on the list of push-ups.

 

He got used to the pain. It was like he was a dog, trained to associate the bad behaviour with the beatings. He misbehaved, he got punished. Simple as that.

 

_ It’s for your own good, Jeremy. You need to learn to behave, to obey. Now, practice what you’re going to say to Christine.  _

 

So he obeyed. He followed the SQUIP’s rules, his own falling to the wayside. He didn’t need them to stay alive, he was thriving, he was doing more than just surviving.

 

Then everything turned topsy-turvy again, and the pain exploded in his brain when the SQUIP deactivated, and for a second he wondered how badly he’d disobeyed to deserve this hellish, splitting pain. 

 

He was fine for a while. He was fixing himself, repairing what the SQUIP had damaged. His life was looking up for once- his dad was wearing pants, Christine had agreed to a date, Brooke had forgiven him for Halloween night, Chloe had apologized along with Rich, Jake and Jenna- everything was good. 

 

Michael was the only thing wrong- not Michael himself, but the fact that Jeremy didn’t know how to apologize. He’d been a terrible friend. He’d ditched him for popularity. And Michael had come back, but didn’t quite forgive Jeremy. 

 

The first day back in school, Jeremy stuttered in front of Michael, trying to say hello. Mentally, he tallied that as a mistake, bracing himself for the shock of pain he knew would come. It didn’t, and for some reason that bothered him. He didn’t know what to do now, with the SQUIP gone, since his world was shoved upside down yet again.

 

Jeremy found himself in the bathroom after school, turning the small silver blade from his razor in his hand. He’d accidentally broke it, making it fall apart, slicing his finger on its sharp edge. The bright red liquid ran down his finger, beading at the edge of the cut, and he felt the familiar pain, and it was oddly calming.

 

That was when it had started. Stuttering? A small line in the crease of his elbow stopped that. Slouching? Another cut fixed it. Sexual thoughts? An internal reprimand that sounded vaguely of the SQUIP, another slash, and another tally scrawled on the inside of his wrist to keep track of the number he’d do that night.

 

He dug his old blue cardigan out of the back of his closet where he had shoved it at the SQUIP’s request, covering the tiny pattern of scars. He kept his jeans on, changing in a bathroom stall during gym to hide both the scars from himself and the SQUIP. No one seemed to notice- after all, why should they?

 

Everything about him was so terrible.

 

Everything about him sucked.

 

Everything about him made him wanna die.

 

And right now, he didn’t even want to survive. 

**Author's Note:**

> well then  
> sorry for not posting a lot recently loves  
> i’ve got a bunch of unfinished stories for you but... motivatation doesn’t exist for me at the moment.   
> so have this angst.
> 
> but if you want better angst (and writing in general) go read PlayerOneMell’s stuff. 
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoyed, and see you whenever i post next.


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